Broken and Bleeding
by TykiMickey
Summary: There's a reason why Miranda is the way she is. Everyone knows she was fired from 100 jobs. But no one knows about her first job, her darkest secret: being a prostitute to save her only family, her abusive father, from poverty. Mostly traumatic flashbacks.


_Rated M for explicit themes like child and sexual abuse, depression and prostitution. It seems as if the only way I can write fics on Miranda is to put her in horrible situations. :/_

* * *

**Broken and Bleeding (1)  
Confession**

**"I tried to kill my pain**  
**But only brought more**  
**So much more**  
**I lay dying**  
**And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal**  
**I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming**  
**Am I too lost to be saved?**  
**Am I too lost?"**  
**~"Tourniquet," by Evanescence**

Miranda thought that all her problems would go away as soon as she became an Exorcist. After all, she finally got a stable job, a group of very good friends and a purpose in life. But she couldn't be any more wrong. Not _all_ of her problems disappeared. There was one, a shameful and horrifying part of her past, that Miranda just couldn't shake off. It haunted her dreams and kept her awake all night.

Everyone knew that she was fired from a hundred jobs. But no one knew about her very first one. People were kind enough not to pry into her previous life, but Miranda prayed that no one would ask her about _it_. That proved to be progressively difficult, however, as Miranda continued to suffer from nightmares. Her insomnia carried over to daylight hours, when it interfered with her work. Allen, Lenalee or Marie might make remarks out of concern, but Miranda would be quick to shrug it off with a smile.

Then her worst fear came true one day. It started off as harmless jokes from Lavi. The young Bookman was being silly and carefree as usual. Miranda had overheard him in a conversation with Noise Marie and Allen in the cafeteria.

Marie crossed his arms and shook his head. "With the way you talk about girls all the time, I'm surprised you haven't been laid yet."

Lavi laughed. "I am the successor of the respectable Bookman clan. I wouldn't stoop that low."

Miranda heard Allen next. "So you've only been talking about other girls. What about the ones from the Black Order? I'm curious to know what you think of them."

"Hmm...Lenalee's cute. But I wouldn't make a serious move on her. Don't tell Komui! He'll rip me apart with one of his stupid robots. I bet she's never been touched in her life. Lenalee doesn't have to do anything about guarding her virginity. Her brother's already doing an excellent job on that!"

Allen and Marie laughed.

"What about Miranda?" Allen asked.

Miranda was about to leave, then she froze at the mention of her name.

"She's cute too," Lavi replied. "In her own weird way, I guess. It's adorable how she can be so clumsy and all. There's no doubt about her, either. She's so innocent. She's _obviously_ a virgin."

Miranda instantly teared up. She wished she never heard. Unable to restrain a sob, she put a hand to her face and dashed down the hallway.

Marie knew exactly what was going on. He sighed in dismay. "Great. She overheard you, Lavi."

"Who?"

"Miranda, of course!" Allen said in exasperation. "Go after her and apologize!"

Eyes blinded by tears, Miranda didn't see the stairs. She cried out as she fell. She tumbled down and hit her head on the floor with a sickening thump. When Lavi caught up, he gaped at her prone body sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. Her head bled profusely. He dashed down, shouting like a madman for the nurses. He tried to staunch the bleeding, all the while apologizing nonstop until help came.

* * *

Miranda struggled to open her heavy eyelids. They flew wide when she noticed people surrounding her from all sides. Allen, Lenalee, Komui, Krory, Marie, Jerry, Bookman and Lavi. They were all there. Everyone burst into reactions of joy and relief. She winced as the noise sent a bolt of pain through her skull.

"She's awake! Oh, thank God!" Allen exclaimed.

"Can you hear us? Can you remember us?" Krory asked frantically.

Marie leaned forward, looking deeply concerned. "Can you remember your name? What is it?"

She struggled to reply. "M-Miranda Lotto..." Her voice sounded light and distant, as if it didn't belong to her.

"Great! The poor dear hasn't lost her head after all," Jerry remarked with tears gushing down his cheeks.

"Everyone quiet down," Bookman reprimanded them.

Miranda felt gauze wrapped snugly around her head. She reached out to touch them with trembling fingers. "Wh-what happened...?"

"Well, you were crying and running away from the cafeteria," Allen replied. "Then you fell down the stairs. You hit your head on the floor. Thankfully you don't have any fractures. The nurses said you had a concussion, and a big bruise and a few small cuts on the right side of your head. You were knocked out for about an hour, I think."

Miranda's head jerked in a nod of understanding. She instantly regretted the gesture. "Oh, okay..." she replied dazedly.

Lavi frowned. "Wait, how did she have just a bruise and a few cuts? It looked a lot worse to me."

"Injuries to the head, even small ones, often lead to losing a lot of blood," Bookman explained. "Miranda is lucky."

Lavi looked relieved for a second. Then he paled. "But that doesn't change the fact that it's all my fault!" He seized her hand. "Miranda, I'm so SO sorry! I'm responsible for this. I'm an idiot, I know." Guilt and panic was stamped all over his face.

"I-it's not your fault, Lavi. It's not you." She could barely raise her voice over his frantic apologies as she tried to calm down the young Bookman. "It's just...what you said...a-about me...triggered something I'd much rather forget..."

Lenalee put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't talk anymore, Miranda. You need to get some more rest."

The German Exorcist almost shook her head stubbornly, but thought better about it. "N-no, I have to tell you. I wouldn't be able to rest, anyway. Not until I get this out of my mind."

"Tell us what?" Krory inquired.

Miranda sighed. They didn't look like they were going to leave anytime soon. "I...I didn't want it to come to this. But it seems like I have no other choice. You guys might want to sit down. It's a long story..."

* * *

Miranda didn't always live in what came to be known as the Rewinding Town.

Her hometown was in another part of Germany, where she was born as the only daughter of Albert and Amanda Lotto. They started off like any other family in that town, not terribly rich but not terribly poor either. Her memories of early childhood were fuzzy and vague, which saddened Miranda to this day because she could only remember the misfortunes later in her life, not the times when when she had been the happiest.

The only time Miranda remembered true happiness as a child was when her mother was alive. Amanda Lotto was a kind, patient and nurturing woman who loved her little girl dearly. She was well aware that Miranda an anxious and clumsy child, whose habits had developed at an early age. That was why she treated her with even more patience and encouragement. Albert, however, had less tolerance than his wife. His daughter's tendency to stutter, shuffle her feet and bite her nails annoyed him. Amanda served as the mediator of the family, telling her daughter to be more confident while telling her husband to be more loving. She always told Miranda to do her best and never give up, no matter what.

"Why, Mama?" Miranda asked one day.

Amanda softly smiled and caressed her daughter's cheek. "It's a part of who you are. I named you as soon as you were born. Your name means 'worthy of admiration.' Always remember that no matter what people think about you, or what _you_ think about yourself, you are a hard worker. I see that you are always trying your best even when you mess up. Not a lot of people have that kind of strength, and that is something to be admired. Don't ever forget that, sweetheart."

Miranda's happiness ended at ten years of age, when her mother died. Amanda's death was a sudden, cruel one. She succumbed to a fatal illness and passed away, leaving behind a distraught husband and daughter.

Albert picked up the habit of drinking, hoping to drown out his sorrow. He lost all sense of responsibility, spending his money on booze and getting fired from many jobs. Sometimes he wouldn't show up to take Miranda home from school. She had to walk by herself, and would find her father sprawled on the table. Miranda hated to see him like that. That meant he lost yet another job. She wanted to make him feel better. So one day she went up to the table and hugged him. He pushed her away and glared through bleary eyes.

"You should be studying," he snapped.

Miranda looked startled and hurt. "I...I try, Papa. But school is so hard."

Albert turned away and put his head on the table again. "It's bad enough that I keep drinking and can't get a job," he grumbled. "Now I have a useless daughter to deal with."

Stung by this, Miranda hid her face and dashed to her room. She curled up into a ball on her bed and cried. She hoped he hadn't meant it. He was never this mean when her mother was alive. Her father never apologized afterwards; he probably forgot.

Her attempts to cheer him up only seemed to annoy him and make his mood even worse. Even as she tried to help around the house, Miranda's clumsy mishaps provoked her father's anger. She missed the comfort of her mother's words that would often follow. But with her mother dead, Miranda had to heal her emotional wounds by herself.

Eventually, when Miranda turned twelve, Albert saw no need for his daughter to continue school. Miranda had no outstanding social nor academic life to speak of. She had no friends who would bother to play with her. She struggled to keep up with her peers during class, only to get poor grades from her constant mistakes. They got even worse after her mother's death. With failing grades on her record, the chances of continuing to the next level were slim. Dropping out wasn't a terrible loss for Miranda. She had no attachments to anyone.

With school out, Miranda was confined to the house. She wasn't old enough to be employed, so she couldn't make money. Her family sank lower and lower into poverty. Each day they barely scraped by with little food and a roof over their heads. Albert ended up being forced to sell many of his late wife's possessions, which upsetted Miranda. But she kept this to herself and didn't question her father, lest she make him angey again. The jewelry and dresses were worth a decent amount of money. But Amanda wasn't a rich woman, so Albert couldn't do this for long. Soon they were poor again. There were some days when Miranda couldn't get a single meal to eat. She abandoned the hope long ago that her father would come home with food, because he often wasted the money on booze. With both father and daughter unable to have a profitable job, they were stuck deep in a pit of poverty and despair.

Then one day, Miranda was in for a surprise when her father came home shortly after noon, earlier than usual.

"Miranda, a friend of mine is coming to visit the house and bring us dinner. He's also staying for the night. So go to bed early after we eat."

This made her confused, yet happy. "Yes, Papa."

She helped her father set up the table for the mysterious guest. A heavyset middle-aged man arrived at their house early in the evening. Miranda didn't recognize him. In fact, she couldn't remember her father having any friends, considering that he was normally a reclusive man. At this point it didn't matter. What mattered was that the man was a godsend; he had food. He brought milk, buttered bread, potatoes and meat, which Miranda and Albert accepted gratefully. She was starving. It was like a feast, and she savored every mouthful. Despite this, she tried to eat slowly and daintily. She had to be a lady and avoid offending the guest.

"Thank you so much for the food," Miranda said after dinner.

The man regarded her with approval. "Rather polite, this one."

Albert didn't look at his daughter. "Yes. Her mother taught her well."

"Hmm. Good to know."

In a few minutes Miranda obediently went off to bed, leaving her father and his friend talking at the table. She felt good on a full stomach, and looked forward to a good night's rest. Sleeping with an empty stomach wasn't a pleasant experience she hoped not to have again. But a question arose in her head. Why would that man stay at her house for the night? Surely there were better places to sleep, such as the inns around town. It bothered her a little that he would take her mother's bedroom.

'But she's gone now. And the man was nice enough to give me dinner. I guess it's all right.'

She settled underneath her blanket and drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. Some time later, the sound of her bedroom door opening stirred her awake. Miranda blinked her heavy eyes. She jumped at the sight of her father's friend standing at the door. Instinctively she drew the blanket to her chin. Lost, perhaps? She doubted it. How could anyone get lost in such a small, poor house?

Even when half-asleep, Miranda tried to be polite. "Th-there's an empty room on the other side. I'm afraid this room is mine, sir."

The man ignored her. To her horror he climbed right on top of her bed. Was he drunk? No, he didn't bring alcohol. She couldn't smell it on him either. He began to touch and grope her inappropriately, making Miranda flinch and recoil.

'What is he doing to me?'

Trapped under his weight, there was no way she could overpower him. The man leaned back a little, pressing his weight on her legs and making them numb.

"Let's see if you're worth my time and money," he remarked musingly.

Miranda paled. "M-money? What...? What are you talking about? Wh-where's my papa? Papa! Papa, help me!"

The man clamped a big hand over her face. "Shut up!" he hissed. "Your father and I already made a deal."

Miranda's eyes widened with shock. 'A deal?'

"No, it can't be," she whimpered. "This isn't real. This isn't happening."

Miranda was constricted, helpless and frozen with shock as the man pulled up her nightgown. He lowered himself into her, elicting a sharp pain between her legs. Her scream of agony was muffled by the man's palm over her mouth. She continued to cry for her father to come in and rescue her...as if she was trying in vain to deny the awful truth.

* * *

Miranda fell silent. Her story had gripped everyone around her with horror and undivided attention. The tears that had welled in her eyes for the longest time now ran down her cheeks.

"Lavi...when you said I was 'obviously a virgin...' I'm not. My father made me sleep with o-other m-" She broke down into loud sobs.

Allen and Lenalee put their hands around Miranda's shoulders. Krory, Komui and Jerry looked like they were going to cry themselves.

"We...we had no idea..." Lavi said in a hushed voice.

Marie looked very solemn. "How awful..."

"It's not good for you to be upset like this," Allen said sadly. "Please get some sleep, Miranda."

"N-n-no, I'm fine. Really. I feel better just by telling you what I've been hiding all this time. But I'm not done yet. If you want to keep listening, that is..."

"Of course we'll listen. We're all here for you."

Everyone nodded in agreement to Allen's reply.

She sniffed and managed a smile. "Thanks, everybody." She paused for a few moments to collect herself and calm her nerves. She took a deep breath, exhaled shakily and resumed her story.

* * *

Miranda thought the horror of it all would never end. The bed shook each time the man moved. She felt as if a sword, searing hot and sharp, ran through her body. Her prolonged screams of pain grew hoarse in her throat. Her chest shook in spasms as she sobbed uncontrollably. Then she was free as the man pulled away from her. Miranda clutched at her thighs, feeling blood pool between her legs and stain the bedsheets beneath her.

The man grunted. "What, no thanks for me this time? You ought to. I've been generous."

He left her room, leaving her door open. Miranda clutched at the blanket with shaky hands. She laid there, broken and bleeding and crying. Her father never came in the room to comfort her with a hug, or even give her a towel to staunch the bleeding.

'I hate this. It hurts. It hurts so much.'

Miranda wanted to see her mother again, to be told she was loved and worthy of admiration. But her mother wasn't coming back, no matter how much Miranda wished for it. She cried for the death of her mother and the loss of her innocence. Two precious things she would never get back.

Among the pain and sorrow she felt, the last Sunday school lecture was fresh in her mind, like a hot brand. The church taught that sin came in many forms, and they all led to one eternal damnation.

'I had sex before marriage. I had premarital sex. I've committed a mortal sin. I'm going to hell.'

The last phrase resounded in her head like the pounding of a judge's gavel, a guilty verdict. Miranda couldn't sleep that night. What kept her awake was the pain between her legs and the thought that her mother was wrong.

'How am I worthy of admiration? I'm not strong, or smart, or beautiful. Papa hates me, and I'm going to hell. Mama would be so ashamed if she saw me right now.'

Miranda continued to cry until she had no tears left to shed. Fatigue finally took hold and briefly put her out of her misery. When she woke up the next day and climbed out of bed, the soreness and dried blood cruelly reminding her of that awful night. The pain was so bad that she had to limp. She scrunched her eyes shut and bit her lip as she sat down at the table. Bolts of pain shot through her insides, making her feel violated and miserable.

There were leftovers from yesterday, but Miranda didn't have the appetite. She stared at the tabletop, her gaze lost into the whorls of the wood, seeing nothing. She didn't look up to see her father sitting across from her. No apologies, no show of compassion or concern for his daughter. All she heard the thin sound of metal on wood. Her stomach twisted when she realized he was counting the coins the man had left.

"Miranda, you must understand..." Albert finally said. "This money will save us. Be a good girl and do as I say, all right?"

Miranda furrowed her brow and clenched her hands at her lap. It was all she could do to avoid breaking down in front of her father. "Yes, Papa..." she replied weakly. "I'll do my best."

* * *

_I originally intended this to be a oneshot, but it got longer than I thought. So there's another chapter. Please let me know what you think. I would appreciate that very much! :)_


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